The Boy Who Died
by K.Henderson
Summary: Talia made a wish seven years ago to save her children's lives. It turns out that that a lot of the bad thing happening in Beacon Hills; The the Kanima, the Alpha Pack and Darach wreck havoc because of the wish. The only way to save everyone of a fate they were never meant to have is for Derek Hale to die. A weighty decision is made.
1. Chapter 1

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* * *

It's hard to hear something so important pertaining to him, only changed because of a mere wish. To forget that you died and that your continued existence was made possible because of magic, because of hope in a trinket talisman.

"You understand, don't you Derek?" The woman is small, curled hair and older than him by, perhaps two years. Or older than Derek would have been had he really survived the fire. He's well aware of the truth now, this woman telling him that he and Laura had died.

'You didn't survive the fire. Your mother saw you burn but she prayed. The trinket around her neck was powerful and she believed in a different reality for you both and...here you are. Alone now. Only two were meant to survive. Your baby sister and your uncle. I am sorry Derek. But the timeline must be fixed. You...have to go away now.'

And here he is, in his loft aware that all the bad things that have happened in the town since Laura's return and his was because they weren't apart of the natural time line. They had to die, Laura having gone first and now...it was Derek's turn.

He wanted to kick and scream. Bawl like a child the way he used to when he was young. He wanted so many things. To live for them.

Except that he was just like them. He was dead and now, this Grim Reaper was here to take him to the other side.

To where they waited.

Suddenly, being dead didn't seem so bad. Not if it meant what he thought it did. He turned to the girl with brown eyes and curls dressed in white lace and nothing else. "So what happens after?"

She smiles. It's warm and full of hope.

"What was meant to happen from the beginning. None of this," She gestures to the room at large but he knows she means the bigger picture. Everything and everyone effected by the change in the timeline would be placed back to where they belonged. "Everything will have been a dream."

They would be saved.

"Derek..." Scott's voice, he's hesitant. Like he can't believe or doesn't want to believe. "You don't have to do this."

But doesn't he?

"Can they remember?" He asks the Reaper, voice young, timid.

"Only if they want to."

He nods, understanding. Of course, they can remember all the pain and anguish of what they've been through or they can move on from it like it had never been.

He remembers his mother intensely, remembers her at the piano set against the large bay window, the sun streaming and lighting her dark hair and her warm skin. Eyes closed as her fingers danced on the white keys. He misses her more intensely than anything in the world.

And yet...

Yet...

He turns towards the others, standing towards the back of the loft. Isaac, who reminds him of his baby sister, the innocence Cora lost so long ago. Scott, who is more profoundly like Laura before the fire, that it aches to look at him. Cora looks like his mother, from Derek to Laura, it's Cora who looks like her the most. Beautiful. Wild. She'll be alright without him.

Stiles reminds him of who he used to be. It hurts to say goodbye to him more than anyone else, because this human boy didn't have to stick by them so fiercely or protect him without any thought to himself _most_ of the time.

Jackson isn't there but Derek can feel him, miles and miles away doing alright on his own. Free.

Will the other's come back? Will Erica be alright will she be the girl he met or will she have become the beautiful woman who had blossomed and yet, had crumbled all too soon? Would Boyd find her in the right timeline the way he'd found her before? He hopes.

Derek shuts his eyes, imagines the possibilities of staying anyway. The hardships they'd have to face, all the wrongness connected to his being alive when he wasn't supposed to be at all.

He holds out a hand to his uncle and sees the person that he had been before. Maybe, if Peter remembered then he wouldn't try to get revenge. Maybe...

There is an infinite number of _maybe's_.

Peter grasps his hand, it's...heartbreaking. This moment is too final. The end of everything and suddenly his arms are filled with his baby sister, he can imagine now what life could have been had he made a different choice. A better choice, one that hadn't involved Kate. One that had not involved Derek talking Peter into getting Paige the bite and subsequently killed. That whole sordid tale, poor Peter.

Forgive me.

It's an agonizing moment. He pulls away from them, it's the last moment the final goodbye and he wants to say 'remember me' and 'don't forget,' but the words become stuck in his throat. He thinks about the could have been if he stayed.

There is an infinite number of _could have been's_.

The Reaper is patient. The Reaper remains where she appeared.

She lifts her hand towards him, palm upward. She smiles.

"Lets go."

Her hand is solid, like cold marble covered in smooth velvet.

They walk towards the large expansive window where the glimmering twilight begins to fade. Maybe, Derek thinks, they'll go right through the glass. He doesn't care. Derek is done caring about anything except the people he's leaving behind for the people he's _going _to.

"W-wait!"

Derek and the Reaper pause, two feet from the window. Stiles' hand extended outward, Derek can see him stumbling towards them, stopping a foot behind Derek's back, arms lowering slowly and resting at his side. He'd wanted to grab Derek, to stop him but couldn't.

"You _can't _just go. Seriously Derek, do you trust her?"

He huffs, there is the ghost of a smile plaguing his lips. Derek dips his head and thinks that he will probably miss this harebrained kid the most out of the pack of idiots he's become acquainted with. He turns around, slowly and knows by the look on Stiles face-on all their faces that he's regressed. Or gone back to the Derek he's supposed to be.

Large eyebrows on a round smooth baby face with an expressive small mouth. He's the boy who died not the man who lived.

"You know," He says in a voice at peace. "I think I do trust her. I might have had an inkling that something was off. I think I knew." He says honestly. Nodding at his own admonition. "And I think she did too." He speaks of Laura and feels excited at the prospect of being with her again.

Stiles doesn't say anything. It's awkward to see him quiet. The others have accepted this, Derek can tell from the looks in their eyes, but Stiles is different. It makes Derek wonder if, when Stiles mother had died if the Sheriff had to convince Stiles that she was gone. He doesn't know why he wonders at all. It doesn't really matter now.

"I want to say _remember me,_ but I don't want to burden anyone." He shakes his head, eyes closing for one long moment. He takes a deep cool breath like it may be his last. "I don't need to darken anyone's doorstep anymore. Or windowsill." He smiles at Stiles before he turns his back to him.

"All of you. Have a happy life."

* * *

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	2. Chapter 2

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* * *

He remembers.

It seems that out of all the teenagers that he is the only one. Stiles doesn't know why he'd held on to the memories that should have been erased. Well, he supposes that a man like Derek Hale, no matter in what form, is hard to forget.

It's strange that he remembers everything, like he's lived two lives side by side. Sometimes Stiles waves at Isaac in the hallways before he remembers that they don't know each other here, and that he's still trapped in hell. Well, Stiles has made it his mission to help Isaac out from beneath his very alive father's thumb.

He'll forget to not be surprised by Erica's shyness when he smiles at her or of how much he can actually see that Boyd is lonely all the time. These are things he hadn't noticed in the other life, where Derek had lived. Now he can understand why they'd been chosen in the first place.

Jackson is still a jerk, though, at least he hasn't changed. Lydia doesn't give him the time of day, which is fine now that he's gotten to know her (though she'll never know that, not ever, which is regrettable.)

Scott is still Scott, still dopey eyed with his crooked jaw. He's even got an eye on Cora Hale-if you can believe that. Stiles can't believe it at first until he remembers that in a world where Derek and Laura died, that Cora had gotten out of the house with Peter.

Peter...is now the English teacher. Which is an improvement from the psychotic murdering Ms. Blake. There is that at least. Still creepy when he thinks about it but infinitely better.

He makes a list. Things that happened because they live. Things that happened because they didn't. Whole lives splintering off in different directions completely. Sure, Peter had his scars (not as horribly as before, it seems having one living relative being by his side in the beginning had made the healing go faster than before.)

The Argent's hadn't come back to Beacon Hills so Allison had never met Scott.

Matt...creepy evil Matt though, Stiles still hates that guys guts no matter what. But at least there isn't a creepy Kanima running loose for him to control.

Still. There is an ache in his chest. Derek is dead and has been dead for seven years.

But Derek was _alive _a month ago.

It's all too confusing.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Stilinski?"

Peter remembered.

Stiles might have forgotten to mention that fun fact. The day after Derek had...stopped existing had found Stiles waking up from a nap, alone at home with his stereo typical buz cut and Peter Hale looming in his space baring some burn scars on the side of his face. He'd asked him if he'd remembered and after Stiles had nodded Peter had vanished.

They hadn't talked about Derek or what had been for a month now. But, Stiles supposes as he looks down at the grave in front of him, that this was merely an inevitable conversation.

"Same as you."

"How are you?" Peter is a solid warmth against his side. He isn't the same Peter and yet he is.

"It's hard." Stiles answers truthfully because Mr. Hale, his english teacher, has always been so easy to talk to. Yet _Peter Hale_ had been someone he was deeply terrified of.

It feels like he's woken up in an alternate reality, in another Stiles's life.

"I look for him sometimes. The train depot and at the old house." He doesn't say loft. Stiles had gone looking for Derek at the old loft and had found it empty.

And that had hurt the most.

"I know." Peter says and at Stiles' surprise he taps his nose. "I caught your scent."

"So you've been looking too?"

Peter nods.

"It is surreal, isn't it? Trading ones reality for another and finding everything you want in it and yet...feeling empty."

"I know what you mean."

"I miss my nephew." Peter says honestly and maybe it's because he's the other Peter, the Peter that never went revenge crazy. "We were...close once. In this reality all I seem to recall is that Derek was a goofy kid who smiled often, liked comic books and had been a chubby child before hitting the seventh grade. I remember Derek fondly and sadly. I remember the burn of the fire, I can remember seeing the support beam fall right on him, killing him instantly. It'd drawn me out of my own burning pain.

I remember hearing Cora and just...running towards her, up the stairs. I saved her and got out of that house. There wasn't the seven years of being checked out of reality. I was conscious. I recovered, I suffered unbearable grief but strove to watch over Cora and protect her. This reality is...just as painful and yet, better than the other. But still I suffer for it."

"Yeah." Stiles understands, in his own way. "No matter what happens now, even if there isn't the kanima or the alpha pack or Blake, no matter what, there isn't going to be a happy ending."

"Exactly. It's bittersweet no matter what." Peter gives him a side glance, reproachful. "You _never _told him."

Surprise. Stiles face colors slightly. He didn't think anyone knew in the time line, or maybe they had and never said a word. There hadn't been time for Stiles to think about his awkward feelings, the strange twisting in his gut when he'd learned about Blake and Derek, that jealousy.

"No." Stiles says because now, in this time, he's had a month to think about it. "How could I?"

"You never know." Peter says and then winces because Stiles will _never _know how Derek would have responded to his feelings. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." Stiles says and means it. He hasn't really grieved yet, can't think of a way to do it without raising suspicion or making his father worried sick. No one except Peter remembers and as insane as it is, the only person he can confide in with these feelings is a person he'd once wanted dead. "It doesn't matter, right?"

"Of course it does. You were in love." Peter shrugs. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat, seems like he's trying to hide from the sudden chill though he doesn't need it. It's overcast today, actually its been overcast all week-long. "Besides, he might have felt the same."

"Doubt it. Have you looked at me?" Stiles parts his arms, gesturing to his whole body. He knows he isn't anything special. Hair too short, limbs long and gangly, face still baby fat round. "Really?"

"Humans," Peter laughs. "you all tend to think that it really matters what you look like to attack a mate. It's more than just looking with your eyes, it's the character of a person. _That_ is what makes you worthy." Peter seemed to debate for a moment.

Stiles is dumbfounded by the sincerity in the statement. Its reminiscent to what his mother had used to say when she was alive. She hadn't been a beauty, not in the sense where it was obvious. She was the type of beautiful that was natural and easily overlooked unless you were looking for it.

'Loving someone is about who you are not what people see. Your father saw me, knew me. It didn't matter how I looked.'

'But mama, you're beautiful!'

"Yeah." Stiles tears himself away from the memory of his mother. "I guess that's right."

A look foreign to the other Peter but not uncharacteristic to this Peter. He smiles before he speaks. "You know, sometimes I would look at him watching your every move, eyes tracing your lips or lingering on your eyes. I would think, _'Nephew you are so obvious. Just come to the realization, will you? ' _After you would leave and he and I were alone I would tease him mercilessly." Peter's smile turns very sad. "Now. He never will come to that realization and I am so sorry."

"What are you saying?" His voice cracks. No. Stiles didn't want to grieve in front of anyone. He wanted to do this alone. This was private, his soul crushing heart ache wasn't for anyone to witness. Not like this.

"Nothing. I guess." Peter shakes his head. It isn't his confession. It's the confession of someone who died seven years ago, who'd fallen in love with a sixteen year old spastic teenager nearly a year ago in a world that never was. "I should go. Papers to grade. A teenager to ground from here to eternity."

Stiles smiles as Peter walks away, his steps are a little shaky, maybe he isn't fully healed yet but he's getting there. "Cora get an F on her report card or something?"

"No," Peter pauses. "Scott McCall has taken to sneaking in through her bedroom window when he thinks I'm asleep."

Stiles laughs loudly, leaning against the grave behind him, fingers gripping the thick uneven stone as Peter walks until he's out of sight.

"You hear that, big guy?" He gestures to the cement slab beneath his fingers. "Looks like Scott's gonna be your brother no matter what. The way he moons over your sister, I wont be surprised if they're married right out of high school."

The slab doesn't reply. The cemetery is cold and empty, and Stiles realizes that there is no one there to hear him. It begins to rain and Stiles tips his head up towards the falling drops, letting the cool wetness sooth him.

And, if anyone were to see him standing there at Derek Hale's grave, they would be hard pressed to tell you whether or he was crying.


End file.
